Going Home
by Bad Mum
Summary: Being more than half human, Fleur has never fully belonged in the Veela world. Now she has made a decision, for her own sake and for her children's. It is the right thing to do, but carrying it out is harder than she ever imagined. (An old story I found in a file.)


_Looking through my fanfic file last night, I found several things I'd forgotten about. This is one of the best of them. I wrote it about three years ago, and I have no idea why I didn't post it at the time. Hope you enjoy it._

**Going Home**

Fleur smoothed the soft silk over her hips and frowned at her reflection in the mirror. There was no disguising the swelling below her waist where the new baby was growing, and it spoilt the simple lines of the long black dress. She was aware of Bill watching her worriedly from the bed, where he was sitting with Victoire, ostensibly reading a picture book with her, but she did not acknowledge him. He did not understand, and she could not make him understand. He could not see why she needed to make this break, to make a final choice. He thought she could carry on as she had been doing for so long, with a stake in both of her worlds, but she could not. She had to make the decision, and she had to carry it through now before the new baby came. It was the only fair thing to do; for Victoire, for the baby, and for Bill himself, although he refused to see it. There was no point in discussing it further; she did not want another argument. Fleur tucked a loose strand of hair into the severe black band she was wearing around her head and turned to Bill.

"Ready?" he asked, knowing better than to say any more. He did not want to part on a quarrel any more than Fleur herself did. Fleur nodded, avoiding his eyes.

In the living room, Bill handed Fleur her bag, and kissed her briefly. Then he stood back, Victoire in his arms, as Fleur picked up the silver spoon spelled as a Portkey. She had a brief impression of Bill looking serious and of Victorie smiling and waving before she was whirled away to her destination.

She regained her balance gradually, fighting down nausea, and looked around. It was as it had always been, as she remembered it from so many childhood visits, but it felt different. Already she felt separate, apart from this world. Picking up her bag, which she had dropped, she started along the wooded path to the homestead. One of her cousins was the first to see her, and she ran out of her house, smiling and waving, to greet her. In what seemed like no time at all, Fleur was surrounded by friends and family, exclaiming and wondering at her unannounced visit, at her sombre attire, at her obvious pregnancy. She greeted them all warmly, all the while aware that this would be her last visit, and that her decision to leave this world behind would not be understood by any of them. How could they, wholly Veela as they were, understand her decision to fully embrace the human world and leave this part of her heritage behind forever? After all, Fleur was not certain that she understood the decision herself, although she knew it was the right one to make for her children's sake.

Someone took her bag, and she was led in a kind of triumphant progress down to the valley where her great aunt sat. Fleur remembered when her grandmother had sat in the seat now occupied by her younger sister, and wondered if she would have had the courage to do this had the old Veela dame still lived. But now was not the time for explanations. She would have this evening, this evening as it always had been, as it had been in her childhood and youth, before she spoke to her great aunt and explained her decision. She would give herself this to remember when she was gone. She curtsied to the old lady as was expected, then went forward for the kiss and embrace of welcome, her aunt exclaiming as the others had done over the unexpectedness of her arrival, the absence of her little daughter who had accompanied her on her last visit, and on her pregnancy. Fleur smiled and talked and laughed with all of them, but her great aunt at least was shrewd enough to notice a difference in her that the younger Veela did not. Fleur caught her eyes on her more than once during the feasting and dancing that evening, and knew that she would not be surprised when she told her of her decision in the morning.

Somewhat to her surprise, Fleur slept deeply and dreamlessly that night, lulled into sleep by the music that continued outside her room. She awoke refreshed and ready for the ordeal to come. She donned the black dress again and tied her hair back with a black ribbon. Veela girls and women wore bright colours or pastels, and her attire had set her apart the night before, but she could not lie by pretending to be what she was not. Not now, when every part of her, soothed and caressed by the familiarity of this place, was crying out to her to change her mind. She had made a decision, and she would stick to it, however hard. Fighting down nausea that had more to do with nerves than her pregnancy, she forced herself to eat some fruit and bread and to drink some water before going to the chamber where her great aunt sat in state.

The old Veela looked up without a smile as Fleur entered, and indicated the chair beside her with a wave of her hand. Unusually, she was alone, and she did not seem surprised at Fleur's arrival. Perhaps, Fleur thought, she had guessed already what was coming, and would make this easy for her.

But it was not to be so. Her great aunt had indeed guessed the reason for Fleur's visit, but she was not about to make her explanation of her decision easy for her or to accept it without question. Fleur's resolve was tested again and again during the two hours she spent in the green and gold room in the centre of the Veela homestead. Veela were possessive of their own, and would not let any go without a struggle, even if they were more than half human, with a human mate and a child and a child-to-be who were even less Veela than they were themselves. Still, Fleur was adamant and repeated her case over and over. She herself was only one quarter Veela; she had already felt as she emerged from childhood into womanhood that she did not and could not ever belong here. And she had sealed that by her marriage to a human mate. Now she was choosing to live fully in the human world, not to return here, not to bring her children to a place where they could never belong. Despite her great aunt's arguments, she remained firm and refused to be moved and to change her mind.

Finally, the old Veela sat back, her eyes grim but a curl at the corner of her beautiful mouth that indicated that she was not entirely displeased. She nodded to Fleur and waved a hand in dismissal and Fleur rose and left, without the customary curtsey that had been instinctive with her for the whole of her life until now, and without looking back.

Only once she was alone in the room allotted to her, did she break down and cry. She knew she had done the right thing, but it was harder even than she had expected.

The rest of the day passed in a kind of daze. There were farewells and tears and more explanations and justifications of her decision. By nightfall, Fleur was exhausted. Her head ached and she barely touched the food brought to her room by a young girl whom she did not recognise, who regarded her with curiosity and a kind of awe.

She slept badly that night, and arose early, dressing herself carefully in the robes of deep rose that Bill had given her for her last birthday, and leaving her hair loose. She had no farewells to make now. Everything had been said already. She packed her bag gratefully, and took up the silver spoon as it began to glow blue, with a smile of pure relief.

She was going home.


End file.
